The Oppurtunity
by IdleWit
Summary: It all starts in a seedy bar mate because of a bad plan, which was the monkey's fault i must add, but it all begins with a proposed oppurtunity. Of course there wouldn't be an adventure without me, the legendary Jack.


**The Oppurtunity**

CHAPTER ONE

"_IT ALL STARTS** IN** A SEEDY BAR…"_

"_Just wait for the opportune moment," _**Jack Sparrow**

It all started with an opportunity, a chance as it were; leastwise that's what the navy called it. Now I'm not one to pass up a good chance, but this one, this one seemed a bit too good to be true. The fact that it came from the navy didn't say much for it either, those stiff British type wouldn't know a good chance if it slapped them, stripped them and put them in corsets…. so maybe they would notice _then,_ but they'd only _have_ to because of the corsets, believe me I know what they feel like and it's not pleasant but that's an experience I'd rather not retell, the memories still too raw you see.

Anyway as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, one of my most fantastic escapades all began because of a chance. You want the whole story do you, not surprised it's a good one at that, long too, a drink would help you know. So now that I'm settled let me get started, this is rum right, greatest drink on earth…. Anyway where was I…. Ah, yes you see I was sitting in a tavern a few years back, nursing some wounds from recent escapades, which hadn't gone as…. well lets just say… exactly as I had planned. Yes I know it must be a shock one of Jack Sparrow's brilliant plans went wrong. Well I think you should know before your ideas of pirates and my legendary self are shattered forever is that first of all it wasn't my plan and secondly and most importantly it had gone wrong not through my own fault but through a monkeys. Never trust the monkeys they're all evil little things. This one especially was a terrible tyrant, almost as bad as Barbossa's and smelly to boot, beat my breath by a long shot according to my mates. They were just having a little private joke of course; an appealing man such as myself is above trivialities such as breath. Answer me this if my breath is so bad why do so many woman throw themselves at me. Of course now that I think of it they throw themselves at me through anger rather then falling for my uncontrollable charm but that's beside the point.

So anyway back to the story, on this night I was all nice and drunk after having a tad too many tankards….so maybe it was more then just a tad, but you have to give a man some leeway. I was sitting in a tavern, lamenting my lost love…no it was not a strumpet I was lamenting the Pearl, which I was sure was missing me, how could you not…. When a sudden silence fell over the patrons who stopped in mid brawl.

Now this is extremely unusual in a tavern, especially the one I was in you know the seedy sort were people start fights and screaming just because they can So I slowly looked up from the drunken state I was in, and glanced over to see what the rest of them were gawking at. It was a gentleman and a few red coats standing in the doorway. Now you may not find this so scary but in taverns like the Dog n' Cat gentlemen are a bad sign, and red coats are a death sentence. Now that I think about it their quite scary even without the fact of them being on the right side of the law, you just have to look at them. Everything has to be so shiny and straight with them, their just so clean it makes me shudder to even think of it. Not to mention the fact everything has to be so miniature with them. Them and their itsy bitsy white wigs, their tiny weeny waist coats and their little pointy noses turned up as if they owned the world. The only large thing about them is their heads, which are freakishly abnormal come to think of it.

Yes thinking back to that moment and the establishment I was in I have to admit I had sunken a bit, but it was one of my bad patches, where life did not seem worth trying for. I had sunk into a state of self pity I'm not ashamed to admit, every man has their bad moments and with the latest defeat which I might remind you was not my fault but the monkeys, what else was I to do. A lesser man may have decided to forgive themselves and soldier on but I was not a lesser man. My noble feelings of duty to those who worship my legend forced me to punish myself. I did this relentlessly by falling into a drunken stupor and allowing myself be lavished with attention by strumpets who may have somehow gained the false impression that I was filthy rich, a rumor of which I knew nothing about of course, being the selfless humble hero that I am.

Anyway the Dog n' Cat was as good as place as any if you just wanted some strong rum and a distraction and I had never really been one to put on airs and graces leading me to be sitting in it at that present moment. There are many fine criminals such as myself who find it highly reputable if you just want to get lost so don't judge me too harshly. Back to the story, hiding was also one of the many reason for the dead silence. Every single man in that tavern, as well as woman, had some reason to hide from the law, and most not decent either or excusable. The poor devils didn't know what to do. The barkeep was frozen in place in the middle of wiping a tankard, with a dirty rag, luckily for me I had only used one tankard as I distinctly remember the man using that same rag to wipe other less tasteful places such as his own snotty nose. I made a face and prevented myself from gagging by inspecting the interesting standoff, which was in front of me.

The red coats stood stock still, green the lot of them all with the same eager but extremely awed expression on their faces. It was the man in front of them who was interesting. He appeared to be an officer as the red coats looked at him for instructions, but rather then wearing military clothing he wore garb that you'd find on some puffy aristocrat, you know the lot that speak with those annoyingly posh accents. He was searching the crowd his eyes moving from one drunk to the other, his lip curled with disgust as if he could smell something horrible…which considering the place he was in he probably could. A smell my drunken senses had blessedly not picked up on but I have a good idea that it wasn't roses.

Now I hadn't exactly been worried before this point, I was drunk for one thing so I was a bit slow on the uptake. But honestly I didn't think I had much to worry about, a pirate I may be but up to that point I had been able to talk my way out of every bad situation I had gotten into…. well okay most situations beside being marooned and the recent monkey business. I also had no reason to fret, I was sure the fellow was just there to pick up a few criminals, random arrests to make him look good the usual procedure, and I also put credit in my ability to disappear when need be. But when that fellow began searching the mob like that, inspecting each face without speaking a word, the guard's behind him nervously holding up their little bayonets to prevent anyone from going out the front door….well I began to get a tad nervous.

I don't know why, I suppose it was just instinctive something to do with my sub conscious. You see I didn't remember ever doing anything against the law in the particular port I had found myself in, but I wasn't exactly sure where I was in the first place being dumped quite unceremoniously on the docks. I had just had enough sense to find the seedy tavern Cat n' Dog after some general inquiries in the alleys and buy many, many tankards of rum. As the man began searching I began wondering quite reasonably if maybe I had forgotten some small detail of a former adventure I had here that didn't impress the authorities. As the man's eye began wondering to faces closer and closer to mine and still no one moved I began to think that maybe these were authorities that weren't to be meddled with. No one was even trying such trifle things as fleeing or even fighting. As the man, was moving forward in the crowd towards the bar I sank further down my chair, covering my face with my hat and my thoughts began to run somewhat more panicky. If a military man was treated with such respect among the rogues and criminals it meant he had a lot of power and that didn't bode well for me if I got on the wrong side of him, which because of my luck although I can't imagine how, I always seem to do. I heard his boots coming closer and closer stopping to inspect some of the patrons more closely at intervals I began to have thoughts of maybe slipping out the back way when a sudden crash and loud bangs emitted from the back of the establishment.

"Go see what it is," the posh officer snapped at some of the men, who immediately ran to do his bidding, but there was no need. Some red coats came in dragging a wild man, now when I say he was wild I meant it. The man was roaring what sounded like gibberish and lashing out, trying to get free. Now I value fighting as much as the next man, but this man, well it was simply madness not brilliance in this case. The desperate red coats finally had to club him over the head before he would quieten down, even then he was moaning savagely. I think that had something to do with the large hat which was firmly positioned on his head, it was so large it even hid his forehead and probably provided him with some padding, protecting him from the worst of their blows although then again he could have just had a hard skull. They stopped in front of the officer, who looked him up and down, and then he smiled. His smile was as sadistic and superior as the rest of him, and it spoke of high breeding the thought of it sickens me really, how more respectable could you get.

"Well hello Thomas Martin, or Tommy Tat should I say," the posh officer said, pronouncing the mans name as if it was something rather distasteful in his mouth. He grabbed the man's head and pulled off the old large hat. With my hat cocked over my face and the awkward way I had to twist to even see the exchange I didn't get to see what was on old Tommy's forehead but I couldn't imagine it was anything good. Old Tommy cried out with something like pure fear and pain and began kicking out again. The posh officer pushed him away roughly, chucking the hat along with him which Tommy gratefully clasped to his breast, and quickly shoved on his head to cover that forehead and whatever marked it which was still elusive to me.

"I told you we would be meeting again before the month was out, didn't I," the posh officer said, taking out a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands as if he had just touched something rather unpleasant. By the looks of the rather grimy Tommy this action was almost excusable. "Let this be a lesson to all you rogues," he called to the rest of the tavern. "Any of those who dare to try their luck a second time against the East India Trading Company will find themselves facing a short drop and a sudden stop. And any of you thinking of leaving through back alleys may know that I have this building surrounded, and the men are now ordered to shoot you scum who so much as thinks of trying to slip past me."

Now you have to wonder how he would have given such orders to the men waiting outside when not one of his guard's inside had even moved to deliver it, but at that present time I wasn't really concerned about such things. At that moment I was cursing my luck, I hadn't actually been in this port before but I, as any good pirate, know my enemies and the largest of them all, as well as the most feared among pirates is the East India Trading Company. Now you've probably heard many a tale about them, and let me tell you now all the bad ones, _all_ of them are true. I didn't exactly have that knowledge then though, never really coming directly across the company I had treated the tales about them as just that, tales. I was no fool, I knew that if caught by them it would be the gallows as it was with the navy, but I never payed any attention to the idea of branding pirates, or sending them to the company's plantations which was deemed to be a more horrible fate then the gallows. See I saw no sense in this, what would the company gain from doing things like that, risking the prisoners escaping and offending somewhere else, terrorizing other waters out of the companies reach. There was no sense letting a man live, branding him and setting him to work when all you had to do was tie a rope around his neck and pull a lever. That was what the death sentence was for in the first place, a solution for the respectable people. It was a solution which enabled them to just simply get rid of criminals with little hassle or mess, and luckily with hardly any pain on the criminals part, unless you counted death, which is a pain in my opinion but not impassable. Anyway enough about life and death I simply just did not see the companies point of torturing men like that when there was such a simple solution at hand, the king did not believe pirates were redeemable so why should they give scallywags such as old Tommy a second chance. I was even puzzling over this thought in my head during the posh officers words, being the naïve fool that I was back then, not that I was ever a fool of course but some allowances must be made. So while I was thinking he had already ordered the red guard's to take old Tommy to the local prison, I didn't exactly catch the name of it but it was something gloomy and predictable beginning with the word port,. Sometimes I found the names the authorities came up with rather dull. If there was ever a prison with an exciting name like Lassies Bow or the Devils Haunt I would swear on pain of rum deprivation that I would be arrested and taken there. If just to see what it was like to spend the night in a goal that had at least a good name if nothing else. Everything is in the name; I'd at least learnt that lesson at a young age.

Well you have to see by then my thoughts had calmed down again, the criminal that I thought they were searching for was caught and they were planning to take him to the local goal. Now before you judge me don't be too hasty just remember I was under the influence of rum, and although that liquid is a wonderful thing it does have sometimes annoying side effects such as slow thought process. There I was sitting as happy as Larry not realizing that the men weren't leaving yet, the red guards all were still standing to attention and the posh officer was in the middle of the room and had begun searching the crowd again. I had turned around again, and had my back to the room so there was an excuse. My contentedness only failed as the barkeep suddenly spoke up.

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